


Breaking Point

by aewgliriel



Series: Outside The Lines [2]
Category: August: Osage County (2013)
Genre: Cousin Incest, Cowgirl Position, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Hysterectomy, Missionary Position, Oral Sex, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-08 17:24:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1135403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aewgliriel/pseuds/aewgliriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year before the events of "August: Osage County", Ivy Weston has just discovered she has cervical cancer, and must make some hard choices. Luckily, she has her cousin Charles to help her out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**\--Chapter One--**  
  
Her annual exam goes just fine, even if it's the same yearly indignity she's suffered since her twenties. Her doctor is quick and efficient, and Ivy's in and out in an hour.  
  
But a week later, she gets a letter in the mail saying there was something abnormal with her PAP smear, and they want her back in for a biopsy. She goes cold all over. Her mother had to have a biopsy after complaining of pain in her mouth, and now she's going through chemotherapy and is addicted to pain pills. Probably dying, too.  
  
The thought of cancer scares her. She's seen what it's done to her mother, what her mother's illness has done to her father. But she doesn't dare confide in either of them about this. She loves her father, but he'd probably tell Violet, and besides, who wants to tell their daddy they've probably got cancer in their lady bits?  
  
She doesn't tell anybody before the biopsy results come back. When they do, it's positive for cervical cancer.  
  
Ivy sits for a long time in the parking lot of the doctor's office, after she gets the news. She's a little numb from shock. Even with days to prepare for the possibility, it didn't seem _real_. And now she's got hard choices to make.  
  
There's only one person she can think of that she wants to tell. Her best friend, the only other family member who really understands her. Sure, she has friends at the school she might talk to, but her cousin Charles has been her best friend as long as she can remember.  
  
She swings by the Aiken house, finds her uncle Charlie outside with one of her aunt Mattie Fae's nasty little dogs. "Hey, Uncle Charlie!" she calls.  
  
"Ivy!" He's pleased to see her, as always. "What brings you by?"  
  
Ivy hadn't thought that far. She makes up something on the spot. "Wanted to tell Charles about a music thing at the college tonight. Thought he might be interested. He home?"  
  
"Yeah, sure. And Mattie Fae will be happy you're getting the boy out of the house. She's been on his case all day."  
  
Ivy pulls a face. Charles is a sweet guy, definitely on the simple side though he isn't stupid. He's easy-going, kinda shy, a bit clumsy. Only time he's not, that Ivy's noticed, is when he's playing the piano.  
  
Charlie goes to the door, opens it, and yells inside, "Little Charles, you got a visitor!"  
  
He comes loping out, in a grey tee and jeans and battered white sneakers, brown hair highlighted red in the afternoon sun. "Little" Charles breaks into a grin when he sees her, blue eyes lighting.  
  
"Hey!" He crosses the lawn and gives her a big hug. "What are you stopping by for, Ivy?"  
  
"Wanted to see my favourite cousin," she says. She can't help smiling in return, in spite of the knot of ice in her stomach. "And, there's this thing at the college tonight, thought you might wanna go."  
  
"What kinda thing?"  
  
"Some open mike night or something?"  
  
He nods, and his hair falls in his eyes. He brushes at it impatient. "Sure, sounds fun. You gonna give me a lift?"  
  
"Well, yeah. Otherwise, I would have phoned." She looks at her uncle. "Okay with you if I steal him for a couple hours, Uncle Charlie?"  
  
"He's 36," Charlie says. "I'm pretty sure he can come and go as he pleases at his age."  
  
Charles rolls his eyes and scuffs a toe on the grass. "C'mon, let's go."  
  
They climb into the car, and Ivy pulls away from the curb. She flips a U and heads back towards town.  
  
When she drives past the college, Charles asks, "Isn't that the school?"  
  
"Yup. We're not going there, though."  
  
"I thought we were goin' to a thing."  
  
"I lied."  
  
He raises both eyebrows. "And where _are_ we going?"  
  
Ivy pulls into the parking lot of a Denny's not far from campus. The waitress seats them in one of the big, round booths in the back.  
  
"Order whatever," Ivy tells Charles. "My treat."  
  
Since Charles is perpetually unemployed--he has rotten luck with work, and it really isn't his fault with just about everything--this is more a formality than anything.  
  
They both get coffee. Charles gets a burger and fries, and Ivy hesitates before settling on a salad with chicken.  
  
When the waitress leaves, Charles leans a forearm on the table and looks at Ivy. "Somethin's bothering you," he says. "What's wrong?"  
  
Ivy unwraps her straw and sticks it in her ice water. She fiddles with the straw wrapper for a minute before she says, "I saw the doctor today."  
  
Charles frowns. "Ivy?"  
  
"I-" She stops, realises that if she says it at this moment, she'll cry. "I'll tell you after we eat, okay? Not right now."  
  
He nods, fine with following her lead. "Okay."  


* * *

  
  
After they eat, she drives to her apartment. Sitting in the car, there's silence for a while. Charles doesn't press, knowing Ivy will say what's on her mind when she's up to it.  
  
"I had my annual last week," she tells him. "It, uh . . . came back irregular."  
  
"Irregular," he repeats. "What does that mean?"  
  
Ivy grips the steering wheel, knuckles going white. She can't look at him as she says, "I have cancer. Cervical cancer."  
  
"Oh, god," he exclaims. "Ivy! You- you gonna be okay?"  
  
She loses it then, and starts to cry. Charles leans across front seat and embraces her. "Shh, shh, don't cry. Talk to me."  
  
Ivy chokes back a sob and turns into him, pressing her face against his shirt. "I can do chemo, or- or I can do surgery," she gasps out between sobs. "I'm so scared, Charles."  
  
"Hush. It's okay. C'mon, let's go inside and talk."  
  
After a moment, she draws back. "Yeah."  
  
He gives her an arm to lean on as they go up to her apartment. Her hands shake, so he takes the keys from her and unlocks the door, ushering her inside before locking it behind them. While she sits on the sofa, he gets her a glass of water. They've had enough game and movie nights that he knows the layout of her kitchen well.  
  
Once she's settled, he sits beside her. "Okay. You said chemo and surgery?"  
  
Ivy nods, sips her water. "It's . . . not advanced. I mean, they think we caught it real early. So I can _try_ chemo, and see if that gets rid of it. But it could leave me sterile. We could also do radiation, which most likely would. Or . . . we can do surgery and just . . . remove it. And that _definitely_ would. But it also guarantees, pretty much, it can't come back later."  
  
He rubs her knee. "So your options are, maybe kids, maybe stay sick and get worse, or no kids and be better?"  
  
She sighs heavily. "Yeah, pretty much."  
  
"Well . . . I dunno. You want my advice?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
"Do what's best for your health in the long run. Adoption isn't the same, I know, but I also know I'd be upset if you got sick again later."  
  
Ivy regards him with serious hazel eyes. "You think so? I'm just so . . . scared."  
  
"I can't make the decision for you, Ivy. Whatever you choose, though, you know I'm here for you, right?"  
  
"You're my best friend, Charles."  
  
He smiles and hugs her, but inside, he winces. Not her fault, really, that he's been in love with her so long.


	2. Chapter 2

**\--Chapter Two--**  
  
Ivy sleeps on it. In the morning, she realises Charles is right. Her best bet is to go with surgery.  
  
It's a painful thought. Sure, she's almost forty and kinda beyond prime years for childbearing, but knowing she won't be able to hurts. Still, she'd rather give that up than die.  
  
She makes phone calls, tells the school where she teaches that, even though it's summer semester and she doesn't have any classes, she's having surgery and might not be recovered in time for fall semester. They're not pleased, but when she drops the word "cancer", they scramble to adjust for her.  
  
She schedules the surgery. It's frighteningly close, just a week away. Funny how fast her life has gone from normal to absolute terror and chaos.  
  
When she tells Charles, he says, "I'll come stay with you."  
  
"You don't have to-"  
  
"You- you need someone there. There's a lot I'm not good at, but I can look after you. I looked this stuff up online. The pictures were kinda gross, well, really gross, but you're gonna be in a bad way for a while, Ivy."  
  
"I know. I just don't wanna impose."  
  
"Family takes care of each other. And I'm outta work, so I might as well be useful."  
  
In the end, she agrees to let him stay and watch over her for the week or two she'll be incapable of doing things like cooking or laundry. She'd never intended to resist, and had expected him to offer. That's just how Charles is, really.  
  
There's no way she's telling anyone in the family outside of Charles. She doesn't need anyone coming over to bother her while she's recovering, pretending they're there for her well-being. The only one she wants around is Charles. He's quiet, he's gentle, and he's strong in case she needs help getting around. He's also the only one she trusts, really, not to make her life hell on top of her impending trauma.  
  
She very deliberately doesn't think about why she's depending so much on him.  
  


* * *

  
  
The evening before Ivy's surgery, Charles packs for a prolonged stay away from home. He hefts his suitcase and carries it down the stairs. He's met in the foyer by his mother, who looks at him with skepticism and a raised brow.  
  
"Running away from home?" she inquires sardonically.  
  
"Nah. A friend asked me to house sit for him for a couple weeks last minute." He hates lying to his mother, but it's for Ivy. He'd do _anything_ for Ivy. "I get free cable in exchange for feeding his fish."  
  
Mattie Fae rolls her eyes. "Go on, then. Try not to do something like burn his house down."  
  
Charles hunches his shoulders a little, but doesn't comment. He hauls the suitcase outside and down the street, making sure he's got his wallet and everything with him. At the bus stop, he waits.  
  
Ivy pulls up a few minutes later, and he puts his luggage in the trunk of her car. She looks tired, anxious.  
  
"My mother thinks I'm house-sitting," he tells her.  
  
"Well, technically . . ."  
  
They go back to her apartment, and he sets up in the spare bedroom. When he comes back out, she's staring longingly into the fridge.  
  
"You fixing something?" he asks.  
  
Ivy sighs and closes the fridge door. "Nope. Not allowed to eat. I can have a little water 'til midnight, but nothin' after that."  
  
"Well, that stinks."  
  
"Tell me about it. I"ve never wanted a cheeseburger more in my life."  
  
He wraps his arm around her shoulder. "I'll make sure you get one when you're outta the hospital."  
  
She leans against him for a moment. "You're the best."  
  
Charles blushes. "Nah, not really."  
  
"Yes, really."  
  
"Well, if you say so . . ."  
  


* * *

  
  
It's been a while since Charles has driven, but Ivy's Honda is a lot easier than his parents' behemoth Lincoln. Newer, too. It's easy to see, when they head out in the morning, that Ivy's in no condition to take control of the car, so Charles wordlessly lifts the keys out of her hand and guides her to the passenger side.  
  
At the hospital, Ivy gets checked in and puts Charles down as her emergency contact, authorizes no one else to know she's there. He goes with her when they take her vitals and draw some blood to check whatever it is they need.  
  
They assign her a recovery room, and Charles waits outside the curtain while she changes into a gown.  
  
"Okay, I'm decent," she calls, and he comes back in. Ivy strikes a pose in the shapeless, ugly garment.  
  
"Stunning," he says with a grin. "Suits you."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Nah. Makes you look . . . sick."  
  
She looks away. "I _am_ sick."  
  
Charles automatically reaches for her. "Not like that, Ivy. I mean, it makes you look all green. Should I have said like an alien?"  
  
Ivy snorts and thumps his shoulder lightly with her fist. The doctor and a nurse come in then and interrupt.  
  
They get her up on the bed and insert an IV. She laughs and points at it.  
  
"Look, Charles! IV, Ivy!"  
  
Charles rolls his eyes. "What'd you give her?" he asks the nurse.  
  
"Oh, just something to calm her."  
  
"I think she's high."  
  
Ivy starts giggling.  
  
The doctor looks at Ivy for a moment, then turns to Charles. "The procedure, barring complications, will take about an hour. But there's a few minutes of prep work, and then she'll be in post-op for some time. Are you going to wait here?"  
  
Ivy reaches for him, suddenly anxious again. "You'll wait, Charles?"  
  
He gives her hand a squeeze. "I'm not going anywhere, Ivy. Promise."  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**\--Chapter Three--**  
  
After they wheel her away, Charles spends some time trying to read a book. It's one of those large-print ones, easier for his mild dyslexia to handle. When he can't concentrate on it, he shoves it back in his messenger bag and pulls out a notebook, spending his time scribbling song lyrics and doodling in the margins while he waits.  
  
What he really wants to do is write songs for people, maybe perform some of them himself. He's got notebooks filled with his messy handwriting, half-written songs he struggles to find the inspiration to finish. Everything in his life seems that way, really. Drive without focus. Lyrics without music, snatches of melodies he doesn't have words to. Himself in love with Ivy, unrequited.  
  
After two hours, they roll the bed back in. Ivy's pale against the white sheets, her lashes and hair stark in contrast. Her freckles, too. They've got her on a drip. She's asleep at the moment, but her face still seems tight with pain.  
  
"She's been awake," her nurse tells him quietly, "but we gave her something so she might be out for a while yet. Can I get you anything?"  
  
"Uh. Can I get a Coke?"  
  
"Sure thing, sugar."  
  
Charles grasps Ivy's hand, rubs circles on the back with his thumb. "You rest, honey," he whispers. "I'm right here."  
  


* * *

  
  
Ivy wakes up after about an hour. It's a tiny cry of pain that alerts Charles. He jumps out of his chair, almost knocking it over, and leans over her.  
  
"Ivy? How you doing?"  
  
"Hurts," she croaks, then lets out a whine. "Hurts!"  
  
"Okay, hang on. I'll get the nurse."  
  
It's easiest to push the button on her bed rather than try to go flag a nurse down. And he doesn't want to leave her side. Can't, really, with her squeezing the life out of his hand the way she is. But Charles barely notices. If it helps her, he's willing to suffer anything.  
  
A nurse, different than before, appears and puts something in the IV. Gradually, the pressure on his hand lessens, and Ivy relaxes against her pillow.  
  
"Charles?"  
  
"I'm here. You okay?"  
  
"Hurts."  
  
He gives her a lopsided smile. "Yeah, I got that much. It's gonna hurt for a bit, sorry."  
  
She mumbles something that might be his name, and subsides into sleep again.  
  
Charles sighs and lightly rubs her hand between his.  
  
"Are you her husband?" the nurse asks.  
  
He starts guiltily. "Uh, no. No. I'm her cousin."  
  
". . . Oh. Well, I need to check her, uh, incision, so if you could step out for a minute . . ."  
  
Charles flushes. "Right. Yeah. Okay."  
  
As he flees to the area outside, he suddenly realises there's probably gonna be a lot of awkwardly intimate things he's gonna have to help Ivy with in the next few weeks. The thought makes his palms sweaty, and he wipes them on his jeans.  
  
Things'd be so much easier if he weren't her cousin, and could speak up about how he feels. He knows he can't tell her. But he can't help how he feels. Maybe there's something wrong with him, like Mama says. 'Cause what idiot falls in love with their cousin?  
  


* * *

  
  
Ivy's in the hospital five days. By the end of her stay, she's strong enough to walk mostly upright, but she's still weak and gets tired easily. When Charles drives her home, he puts her seat flat so she can lie back. He's only left the hospital a couple times while she's been in, mostly to check her mail, water her one plant, and get everything set up for her around the apartment.   
  
Charles helps her out of the car, and she's exhausted by the time they reach the steps. So he picks her up and carries her the rest of the way, only putting her down on her feet long enough to unlock and open the door.  
  
"Charles, you don't have to-"  
  
"Hush. You're so tired, you're shaking. I gotcha. Now, you want the couch or the bed?"  
  
Ivy sighs and leans her head on his shoulder. "Bed. I need to sleep."  
  
"Okay."  
  
He carries her in to her bedroom, where he's already got the covers turned down for her. After he helps her into bed, he asks, "You need anything? Water, your pills?"  
  
"Both, please," she whispers. She winces as she shifts. Charles feels it in his stomach, hating that she's in pain and he can't do anything.  
  
"Okay. Be right back."  
  
He gets her the water and her pain pills. She's on heavy-duty stuff and specifically told him before he brought her home that she wants him to ration the pills and keep them under guard. Ivy doesn't want to risk becoming an addict like her mother. Once she's resting comfortably, he gets her belongings out of the car.  
  
It'll be a long couple of weeks, he reflects, but that's what TV's for, right?  
  


* * *

  
  
"Charles? Charles!"  
  
The sound of Ivy's cry brings him out of sleep and he's wide awake, halfway out of bed before he really processes anything. He finds Ivy half-upright in bed, face white, and she's trembling.  
  
"What's wrong?" he asks, as he crosses the room in two big strides. "How can I help?"  
  
"It hurts," she says. "I need something for it."  
  
He glances at her bedside clock. "It hasn't been four hours, yet. Doctor was real strict on that with what you're takin'."  
  
"I dunno what time it is," she mumbles, and squeezes her eyes shut. "How long's it been since the last one?"  
  
"You got half an hour, sorry."  
  
She mutters something uncomplimentary about her doctor, and something about her mother, under her breath. Ivy hisses out a breath.  
  
Without thinking, Charles moves to the other side of the bed, climbs up, and sits beside her. He slips his arm around her shoulders. "C'mere. Lean back, don't bend what you don't have to."  
  
Ivy shakes as she follows his direction. The pain eases a little with a little pressure off her stomach, it's clear, because the shakes lessen with her weight against him. "Why's it hurt more _now_?"  
  
"'Cause they were givin' you morphine at the hospital. Pretty constant low dose. They gotcha on lortabs an' percocet here. Doc said that's the only reason you can take 'em every four hours instead of six. Switchin' types so you don't overdose."  
  
She drops her head back against his arm. "Oh. Did I wake you?"  
  
"That's what I'm here for, Ivy," he reminds her. "An' I'm gonna be here for a while."  
  
Ivy turns her head to look at him. "Mattie Fae's wrong about you, y'know."  
  
"She thinks I'm a loser," he admits.  
  
"You're not, though. You might have bad luck, but a loser wouldn't be here for me."  
  
He smiles. "Thanks, Ivy."  
  
"Mm. How much longer?"  
  
Charles checks the clock. "Twenty-five minutes."  
  
"Dammit."  
  
He's lying. It's thirty-five, but he's not gonna make her wait that long.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the play, Ivy is 44. It doesn't say in the movie how old she is. For the sake of my little AU here, she's 38.

**\--Chapter Four--**  
  
He spends the rest of the night beside her, knowing he'd just lie in bed and wonder how she's doing, anyway. Ivy doesn't toss and turn, but Charles still wakes whenever she does, at her slightest movement.  
  
He doesn't mind, though. It's the closest he's going to come to where he really wants to be.  
  
Over the next few days, Ivy improves, but she's still not able to shower, and isn't allowed to soak in a tub for six weeks. She has to take sponge baths, and when her hair gets too greasy, Charles makes her sit in a chair by the sink so he can wash it.  
  
"I gotta wonder what Mattie Fae would see if she saw this," Ivy mused, as Charles worked the shampoo through her hair.  
  
"I dunno. Something awful."  
  
"Why _is_ your mother such a . . ." Ivy flounders for a word that isn't "bitch" and fails.  
  
Charles shrugs. "She's never happy. About anything."  
  
"But she's especially mean to _you_ ," she points out.  
  
He's quiet as he rinses the soap from her silky, brown hair. "Sometimes I wonder if I did somethin' when I was little, but . . . I guess it's just 'cause I'm a loser."  
  
Her hazel-green eyes lift to regard him upside down. "You are _not_ a loser."  
  
"I'm thirty-six an' I still live at home," he reminds her. "I can't hold down a job, I never have money, an' I haven't been on a date in four years."  
  
It's Ivy's turn to be silent. After a while, she says, "No, you're not a loser. _Barry_ was a loser."  
  
"That the yuppy professor you dated?" he asks, though he knows full-well.  
  
"Yup." She sighs. "Mom still hassles me about him. I don't have it much better, y'know. I'm two years older than you, I'm still adjunct faculty at the college and my office is in the _library_. And the last guy I dated dumped me for a twenty-four-year-old elementry ed student teacher."  
  
"Ouch. Well, he was an idiot."  
  
Charles grabs a towel and wraps it around her hair, helps her sit up. "You'll find better."  
  
"Where? _Pawhuska_? I wanna get out of here someday, go somewhere and . . . I dunno. Write, maybe. I studied literature 'cause of Daddy. Barbara was gonna be a writer but didn't."  
  
"I wanna be a songwriter," he blurts out.  
  
Ivy tips her head and regards him with a small smile. "I think you'd be good at that."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Yeah. I've heard you play. You're good. You just need . . ." To be away from your mother, she thinks. "More of an opportunity."  
  
"In Pawhuska?" he returns, and they both laugh a little.  
  
Ivy slowly pads into the living room, and sits on the sofa. It doesn't hurt as much to sit up as it has in the past, but it's still not the most comfortable thing in the world.  
  
"Charles, could you get me some of my medicine?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
He fetches pills and water, and brings them to her. As she takes them, he says, "I don't think you need me to ration these still."  
  
Ivy swallows the first pill, then the second. After she drinks her water, she says, "Still don't wanna risk it."  
  
Charles sits beside her. "You're never gonna turn into your mother, Ivy. Just isn't possible."  
  
She eyes him for a moment, then shakes her head. Her hair is still up in the towel, leaving her face unframed. "You know me so well."  
  
He grins and slings his arm around her shoulders. "Best friends, remember?"  
  
Ivy leans back on his arm. "I really can't thank you enough for helping me, Charles. There's no way I could have done any of this by myself."  
  
He rests his cheek against the top of her head. "What else could I do?" he asks softly.  
  
She turns her head, he does the same as she moves, and suddenly their faces are barely an inch apart. Neither moves for several seconds.  
  
Charles lifts his hand and strokes his knuckles down her cheek. "Ivy," he whispers.  
  
Without thinking about what he's doing, he closes that breath of space between them and brushes his lips against hers.  
  
A rush of heat shoots through Ivy and she gives a shudder, lips parting under his. A heartbeat later, she jerks back, eyes huge.  
  
"Whu- Charles," she gasps. "We can't-"  
  
His heart constricts. He's fucked up. He's really, seriously fucked it up.  
  
"I love you, Ivy," he hears himself say. "I'm sorry, I'll go . . ."  
  
He moves to stand, and she catches his hand.  
  
"Charles, wait."  
  
Charles sits back down, shifts to look at her. She still looks shell-shocked.  
  
Ivy licks dry lips. "You . . . love me," she repeats. "Like . . . _love_ me."  
  
He nods miserably. "As long as I can remember. Since I was about fourteen, an' you were sixteen . . ."  
  
She looks down at their hands, still clasped, and she can't make herself let go. "I . . ."  
  
Suddenly desperate, he grabs her other hand. "You felt it, too. I know you did. You kissed me back."  
  
Ivy trembles, his touch suddenly sending sparks along her skin. "It's wrong," she breathes.  
  
Charles stares at her, both unwilling and unable to take his eyes off her. "But you didn't say _I'm_ wrong."  
  
"I'm . . . I don't know what to say."  
  
"Tell me, at least, that I didn't just . . . mess everything up?"  
  
Slowly, she shakes her head. He's so worried, face tight and beautiful blue eyes bright with unshed tears. Whatever she says next could make or break him, she knows.  
  
He's always been her best friend. He's always been there for her, and suddenly, she sees everything in a different light. How he stayed by her side at the hospital, sacrificed his own sleep to see her through each night since.  
  
It's wrong, she knows. He's her _cousin_. And yet . . . there's a flutter in her stomach that wasn't there before. She'd always shied away from thinking about how fond of him she was, but now she can't.  
  
"Charles," she says, and hesitates.  
  
He waits, his hands holding hers, his own heart pounding.  
  
Then she says, "Kiss me again?"  
  
His hands release hers and slide up her arms to cup her face. He leans in, slanting his mouth over hers. She doesn't resist; she couldn't if she'd wanted to. Ivy sighs against his lips and presses closer, a feeling she can't describe washing over her. She fists her hands in his shirt and kisses him back with everything she's got.  
  
Charles is the one who finally pulls back. He leans his forehead against hers so they're nose to nose.  
  
Ivy curls her hands around the back of his neck. "We can't tell anyone," she whispers. "They wouldn't understand."  
  
"Does that mean you wanna give this a go?" he asks.  
  
She rubs her nose against his, then a laugh bubbles out of her. "Yeah," she says. "I think so."


	5. Chapter 5

**\--Chapter Five--**  
  
When Ivy wakes in the middle of the night, she finds Charles curled around her. His arm, a welcome heavy weight across her torso, holds her tight to his chest. She remembers kissing and talking late into the night, but not falling asleep. Since she lives in her pajamas these days, she'd started out in them. But at some point, Charles changed into his, probably after carrying her into the bedroom.  
  
She rolls over, trying not to wake him. She's never really seen him asleep before. He'd spent the first few nights here with her, but she'd been so out of it that she'd barely noticed. Now, she studies his face as he slumbers.  
  
One curl of his auburn hair falls across his forehead. Ivy reaches to brush it away, then changes her mind and wraps it around her finger. His hair is soft, and she can't resist running her fingers through it.  
  
It's such an unexpected change, whatever it is that happened today. But she finds she can't regret it. People would talk if they knew, so they have to keep it to themselves. Dates far away where no one will know them. Everything else in absolute privacy.  
  
Charles shifts in his sleep, his hand sliding to rest on her hip. His hands are big, and his fingers brush her backside. Ivy sucks in a breath at the sudden rush of _something_ through her.  
  
He opens sleep-bleary eyes. "'vy?"  
  
"Did I wake you?"  
  
"Kinda." He yawns, big enough to make his jaw pop, and he pulls her close. "Mm. S'nice."  
  
"Yeah." Ivy strokes his jaw with her thumb. "So, turns out I sleep better with you here."  
  
Charles laughs under his breath and nuzzles her neck sleepily. "Back t'sleep."  
  
He rolls to his back and Ivy uses his chest as a pillow. She falls asleep to the steady thump of his heart under her ear.  
  


* * *

  
  
Kissing Charles rapidly becomes Ivy's favourite thing in the world. He puts his whole self into it. He's like a different person with her than she's ever known, now that he can be open with his feelings.  
  
It changes her, too, being open with Charles, touching him and letting him hold her. Ivy's never been this happy in her life.  
  
While there are days that seem interminable, the weeks go fairly quickly. Ivy's a little sad to see Charles go at the end of the three weeks, but neither is ready for something like him actually moving in.  
  
Mattie Fae doesn't seem to notice that Charles is out of the house a lot. Or, if she does, she doesn't say anything. Ivy's taking the newly-begun semester off, since teaching all day would just be too hard on her.  
  
It's a sixty-mile drive to Tulsa from Pawhuska, but they make the drive every Friday night, going to dinner and a movie. They hold hands in the dark theatre, but are careful at the restaurant, just in case they run into anyone they know.  
  
Ivy feels like a teenager when she and Charles drive to a remote spot, late at night, and make out in the back of the car for over an hour.  
  
When Charles slips a hand under her shirt, she doesn't stop him except to say, "We can't go further than this, you know. Not right now."  
  
He kisses her neck. "I know. Not gonna push you into anything you're not ready for."  
  
"It's not . . . I want to," she admits. "But the operation, I . . . I haven't had my check-ups and all."  
  
"I can wait," he assures her. "Now hush so I can kiss you."  
  


* * *

  
  
At her six-week checkup at the clinic in Bartlesville, her doctor, Ellie Grey, tells her that everything looks good and she's healing well.  
  
"Oh. Okay. Good." Ivy tugs the paper gown to cover herself.  
  
"Did you have any questions?"  
  
She hesitates. "Um. Well. Maybe."  
  
Ellie arches a brow as she sets her clipboard aside. "'Maybe' usually means 'yes'. What's on your mind?"  
  
Ivy's cheeks go pink. "I was wondering . . . How soon could I . . ."  
  
"Resume sexual activity?" The doctor looks amused. "You're healing well, and I didn't see any infection or problematic inflammation. As long as you're careful, I don't see why you couldn't now."  
  
Ivy smoothes her suddenly sweaty palms on the gown. "Right."  
  
"Given that you reported at your exam ten weeks ago that you didn't have a sexual partner, I'm guessing that's changed?"  
  
Her blush goes full-force, turning her face scarlet, as Charles pops into her head. "Um. Yeah. There's . . . someone."  
  
"Good for you! Just remember, you may experience things differently than you did before. You'll probably have dryness, at least to start, so you'll want a natural lubricant. Nothing silicone based. And you may choose to use condoms for the first few times, especially if you start right away. It helps some women with preventing bladder or urinary tract infections."  
  
Ivy bites her lip and tries to will the blush away. "Okay. Um. Is anything . . . different down there? I mean, inside? Would he . . . feel anything strange?"  
  
"I shouldn't think so. There might be a feeling of your vagina being too short, but it's really only a few millimetres at most, and in time, once the swelling is gone, you may find your vagina is longer than before."  
  
"Right." Ivy's a private person, and this discussion is uncomfortable, even though Ellie was the one to cut out the bad parts of her reproductive system.  
  
Ellie pats her arm. "Just go slow, don't push yourself, and if you have any problems, stop immediately and come see me."  
  
Ivy stays flushed and flustered through getting dressed. It's early September, and cooling down a bit, but not by a hell of a lot. She uses the brochure on "post-op intimacy" Ellie gave her to fan her flaming cheeks as she walks to her car.  
  
It was easier to avoid thinking about actually taking that step, despite their hot-and-heavy makeout sessions, when Ivy knew that she couldn't physically do it. With her doc giving her the go-ahead, though, the idea is suddenly front-and-centre in her mind.  
  
Does she want to? Hell, yes. Charles makes her feel more desirable than any man had. And she wants him so bad she aches. She's long-since gotten past the weird part about his being her cousin. That doesn't matter to either of them anymore, outside of how people who really had no business sticking their noses in would react.  
  
But she's not ready, mentally, to go to bed with him that way. He sometimes shares the bed with her, but just to sleep. The thought of having him naked there, with her, is enough to bring on a pseudo hot flash.  
  
That, at least, is one thing she isn't dealing with yet. Her ovaries are still in place, so she isn't gonna have menopause for a while. Ivy's grateful for that, because she doesn't want to deal with *that* on top of everything else.  
  
Still, as she drives home, she finds herself stopping at the Walmart to pick up some groceries. She's standing in the intimates department, looking at lacy things, before she realises what she's doing.  
  
"Ah, hell," she mutters under her breath, and buys a pretty matching bra and panty set.  
  
And as a just-in-case, Ivy furtively grabs some condoms and a bottle of KY Jelly, too. Just in case.


	6. Chapter 6

**\--Chapter Six--**  
  
Ivy's mother complains that she hasn't seen enough of her middle daughter, so Ivy goes to spend some time with her folks. Violet's pretty much incoherent on pills, so Ivy spends most of the visit with her father in his study.  
  
"How's work?" Beverly Weston asks.  
  
"Oh, it's fine." Ivy  hasn't told either of her parents that she's taking the semester off, and she hates lying to her dad. She's his favourite, though Mom insists Barbara is. Damn Barbara.  
  
The house is dark, shades taped down to keep the light out. Ivy doesn't understand it, but it started when her mother's chemo did. Violet keeps random hours, and supposedly, having the house dark helps her sleep. Her father seems to be wilting in the dark, though.  
  
Beverly's a writer, something he instilled in the first two daughters but not the third. Barbara started out writing, gave it up for husband and daughter for some reason. Karen's just a selfish ditz. Ivy isn't even sure what her little sister's doing these days. She hasn't heard from her in months.  
  
Ivy herself wanted to to write, but she settled for being a literature teacher. Sometimes she thinks about trying it again, but she never was as good as Barbara at it.  
  
Still, she and Beverly understand each other better than most, even if his drinking gets in the way of real bonding.  
  
Her family is seriously fucked up. She's no exception, halfway in love with her own cousin.  
  
Ivy picks up one of the books on the scattered mess that is Beverly's desk, and flips it open. It's dedicated "To my beautiful Violet".  
  
"Something on your mind?" Bev asks his daughter. He's been watching her in silence for a while.  
  
"Not really. I'm just . . . I dunno."  
  
"There's somethin' on your mind," her father insists. "I know you, Ivy."  
  
"I'm not ready to talk about it," she tells him. "Just a thing I'm dealing with."  
  
His hazel eyes study her over his glasses, but he doesn't speak. "When you're ready, I'll be here."  
  
"Thanks, Dad."  
  
From upstairs, Violet screeches, "Ivy!"  
  
Ivy sighs. "I'm being summoned."  
  
Beverly chuckles. "Go. Faster you go, faster she'll shut up."  
  
"I wish."  
  
She leaves, and Bev stares after her.  
  
She never does tell him. By the time she's ready, he's dead and buried.  
  


* * *

  
  
In late October, Ivy puts a cardboard cutout of a skeleton on her front door. Charles comes over to carve pumpkins with her, and they pig out on candy and popcorn.  
  
"We should watch a horror movie!" he suggests.  
  
"I don't like horror movies, Charles," Ivy protests.  
  
She puts one of the pumpkins in her living room window, with an LED candle in it. The other one is for Charles to take home. Mattie Fae doesn't mind decorating, she just doesn't want the mess of actually carving one of the gourds.  
  
"Not a really scary one," he assures her. "How 'bout . . . Well, let's see what's on Netflix."  
  
He sits on the sofa with the bowl of popcorn, and after a moment, Ivy joins him. It's nice to snuggle up with him, since it's a little cool and rainy outside. Charles picks a movie, something about a bunch of young adults and a cabin filled with monsters. Ivy doesn't pay it much attention. She's more interested in his arm around her, the scent of his aftershave, the warmth of his body.  
  
She runs her hand up his jean-clad thigh. At first, she isn't sure if he notices, but when his breathing hitches, she knows otherwise.  
  
He mutes the TV, twists, and rolls her to her back on the sofa. Ivy gasps out a laugh when his weight comes down on top of her. She pulls his head down and kisses him long and deep. His body responds eagerly and Charles grinds his hips against hers, his burgeoning erection pressing against her very intimately. There's only a three inch height difference between them, since she's tall for a woman, and lying beneath him, able to look him in the eye, is incredibly erotic.  
  
"Charles," she breathes.  
  
She's not wearing the pretty lingerie she bought, but she suddenly doesn't care. He's already seen her at her worst.  
  
He sucks at her bottom lip, then trails his mouth over her jaw and scrapes his teeth against the spot just under her ear. She catches her breath, nipples going hard.  
  
An incredibly loud noise splits the air, a droning wail that takes Ivy a minute to realise is the tornado siren two blocks away. It's like a dousing of cold water, and they both fall off the sofa in a mad scramble to get up.  
  
"But it's October!" she says, to no one in particular.  
  
"If the conditions are right-" Charles begins.  
  
"I know, I know."  
  
They quickly make sure all the windows are locked and the shades drawn. It's not a great barrier, but it'll do. Ivy grabs his hand and hauls him into her bedroom, into her closet. It's the safest place in the apartment, sturdy steel and concrete construction specifically intended as a tornado shelter.  
  
"Well, that sure killed the mood," Charles says after a moment, and even though the siren is still wailing--and she can now hear the roar of the funnel cloud though it's probably a ways off--Ivy breaks into hysterical giggles and drops her forehead against his shoulder.  
  
Hers is a walk-in closet, with a real door on it, plenty big enough for two people. They sit on the floor, kicking her shoes aside. She's got a two-person emergency kit on the shelf above them, just in case.  
  
When Ivy shivers, Charles opens the door, dashes out, and grabs one of her warmest throws from the chest at the foot of her bed. He's back in seconds, pulling the door shut.  
  
"That was risky," she scolds him lightly.  
  
He just wraps the blanket around her and pulls her close.  
  
The power goes out, plunging them into darkness. Ivy's been through this before, but she's usually alone when it happens. Having Charles here is nice, despite the situation.  
  
"This should take too long," she says.  
  
Charles pulls her to sit between his legs, and winds the blanket around them both. Ivy smiles, shifting a little to rest her head against his shoulder.  
  
"Not how I was planning on spending the evening," she comments.  
  
His hand finds her breast in the dark. When she doesn't stop him, he seeks out the other one with his other hand.  
  
She breathes his name, turns her head. They bump noses and laugh, and then he's kissing her. She sighs into his mouth, places her hands over his to encourage him. Even through her shirt, he strokes her nipples into turgid little points.  
  
Then he snakes his right hand down, over her belly, and unfastens her jeans. The whir of the zipper is surprisingly loud, given the storm outside.  
  
Charles slides his hand in, between soft, damp cotton and the denim of her jeans. His fingers press against her and she gasps.  
  
"I want you, Ivy," he murmurs. His erection is back, straining his jeans and digging into her hip.  
  
"I don't wanna do it in a closet," she tells him. "Not for our first time."  
  
Charles groans. "When?"  
  
"There's a conference in Kansas City," she gasps out. "This weekend. I committed to it before . . . everything. School's paying for it. Come with me."  
  
His fingers still in stroking her. "What would I do there?"  
  
Ivy feels a little bereft. She's never experienced desire like this before. He can turn her on with a touch. "I have a seminar on Saturday afternoon, the whole reason I'm going. It's a . . . teacher thing. But I've got the hotel for three days, school's paying for it. You and me, three days, so far away from here. Nice, big bed. Say you'll go."  
  
His hand squeezes her breast. "Of course I'll go."  
  
Outside, the siren stops. They cautiously leave the closet, Ivy a little dizzy with arousal. She can't imagine Charles is any better off. She wants to drag him into her bed and have her way with him, but she also wants it to be . . . more.  
  
She has a flashlight in her nightstand drawer, which she's able to find even in the dark. She snaps it on.  
  
"Now what?" Charles asks. His voice is a little raspy. Yep, he's just as worked up as she is.  
  
"Cold shower?" she jokes.  
  
He chuckles. "Let's see what's goin' on outside."  
  
"Yeah. Good idea."  
  


* * *

  
  
The town's a little banged up with the tornado, but no one dies or is seriously injured.   
  
The power doesn't come back on 'til close to three in the morning. Within a minute, Ivy's phone starts ringing.  
  
Ivy, sound asleep 'til the ring wakes her, mutters, "Gotta be Mom."  
  
Charles reaches across her and grabs the handset, hands it to her. She mouths a thanks and answers.  
  
"Hello? Yeah, Mom, I'm- No, Mom, I'm fine. No damage to my place. You and Daddy okay out there? Good."  
  
Then Beverly wrests the phone away from his drug-addled wife and spends a minute or so explaining that one of the old chicken coops blew away, but since it was falling down already, he doesn't care.  
  
Finally, Ivy manages to hang up the phone. "Parents," she mutters.  
  
Charles takes the cordless and nuzzles her breasts for a moment. "Gotta call Mom," he mumbles against her chest. "She's probably real worried."  
  
Ivy ruffles his hair. "You go ahead. I'm gonna microwave something to eat now that the power's back on."  
  
She kisses him, long and slow, before she leaves the bed. Charles watches her go with a lazy smile, then sighs, and dials his mother.


	7. Chapter 7

**\--Chapter Seven--**  
  
Friday morning, Ivy meets Charles a couple blocks from his parents' house. He has a backpack and his usual messenger bag with him, but that's all.  
  
"You packed light," she observes.  
  
"I'm hoping I'm not gonna need much."  
  
She blushes and laughs.  
  
It's a four hour drive from Pawhuska, Oklahoma, to Kansas City, Missouri, pretty much entirely through the nothing that is the state of Kansas. Lots of empty cornfields, far as the eye can see.  
  
"I hate the midwest," Ivy says. "I wanna go somewhere."  
  
"Where would you go?"  
  
"I dunno. I think about New York a lot. Maybe teach there, or . . . or write. Have a little loft apartment in the city, or . . . something."  
  
Charles nods. They've got Springsteen playing on the radio, turned low so they can talk. "I think about New York, sometimes, too. Or California."  
  
"We could do that," she hears herself say. "Run away to New York. Leave Oklahoma."  
  
He regards her with serious blue eyes. "Would you do that?"  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"I mean . . . I love you, but you . . . haven't said . . ."  
  
She glances over at him, not really able to take her eyes off the road. "Haven't said what?"  
  
"That you love me."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Ivy thinks about that as she drives. Does she love him? There isn't even really a question of it anymore. Yes. She absolutely does love Charles, in every way she can. Best friend, boyfriend. Soon to be lover.  
  
"Sorry," Charles mumbles. "Don't wanna presume."  
  
She clears her throat, reaches over to hold his hand. "You're not presuming anything, Charles. I'm just . . . cautious."  
  
"Cautious about what?"  
  
She shrugs, and for a space, is distracted by merging onto I-35. When she answers, she says, "It's _my_ issue. The last man that I . . . I've only said it to one, and he dumped me right after. And I'm not even sure I meant it. This . . . It's too important to me to . . . rush."  
  
" _Is_ almost four months rushing?" he asks. It's a legitimate question on his part. "I know I . . . sorta rushed things when I told you, but . . ."  
  
"No, you didn't. I mean, someone has to say something first, right?"  
  
"I guess so." He shifts awkwardly in his seat. "You know I'm not gonna hurt you, Ivy, don't you? I couldn't."  
  
She does know that. Charles isn't the type to seduce her and then dump her when something better comes along. Ivy isn't even sure if he's ever _had_ a relationship. And given how sensitive he is, how caring . . . She just doesn't want to mess anything up.  
  
Ivy forces a cheerful tone. "I know. So . . . once we get there and I get checked in, you wanna go visit the zoo or something?"  
  
Charles nods. "Sure. Never been to one."  
  
Her eyes widen and she takes her eyes off the road just long enough to shoot him a startled look. "You haven't?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Your mama's got a lot to answer for," Ivy mutters. "Zoo it is."  
  


* * *

  
  
The conference Ivy's attending is being held across the street from the hotel where they're staying. She gets checked in over at the conference, and since they can't sign in to the hotel 'til after four, they head for the zoo.  
  
Charles is fascinated by all the animals, if dismayed a little by the conditions they're kept in. It isn't cruel like some he's heard of, but still. Animals should be wild and free, he thinks.  
  
"Polar bears!" he exclaims. "I've always wanted to see polar bears."  
  
They have a late lunch after their visit, then head back to the hotel to get checked in.  
  
It's a nice room, a king-size bed and a big, jetted tub. Ivy picks the side of the bed closest to the bathroom. Charles is affable, not caring which side he gets. The don't have a routine for this kind of thing, though Ivy usually sleeps on the right side of the bed.  
  
"So . . . we gonna do this?" he asks nervously.  
  
"Not just yet," she says. "There's a reception thing I apparently have to go to at six. You can come with if you want."  
  
He shrugs. "Sure."  
  
Ivy cups his face and stretches up to kiss him. "I wanna spend all night with you," she whispers. "I don't wanna hurry this. Okay?"  
  
"Me, neither." His big hands pull her close. "I've waited this long. Couple hours doesn't make a difference."  
  


* * *

  
  
Ivy isn't the only conference attendee to bring a significant other. The reception is a business-casual get-together in the "ballroom" of the Ameristar Casino, and everyone mingles.  
  
Nearly everyone. Charles is socially awkward, though he tries. It's not his fault; Mattie Fae's worn down his self-confidence to a nub, and the only time he's really secure in himself is with Ivy. Even then, he has moments of doubt. His being here is solely for his and Ivy's benefit. If she has to be here, then he's with her. And if he's with her, she doesn't see a point in mingling with strangers.  
  
Ivy sits him at a table with their refreshments and hands him a glass of punch. She's used to his clumsiness, so doesn't think anything of carrying the liquid while he carefully balances their plates. She's had more than thirty years to get accustomed to his quirks, and barely even notices them.  
  
"So this thing goes three days?" Charles asks her.  
  
"Two more," she says. "Missed most of today's activities."  
  
"But you're only here for the thing tomorrow?"  
  
She nods and steals a brownie off his plate. He narrows his eyes and snitches hers. "My department wants me to check out the guy giving the seminar, see if it's worth having him give one at the school."  
  
He looks awed. "They're lettin' you make that decision?"  
  
Ivy shrugs. "I've been teaching there fourteen years."  
  
"And they haven't offer you, what's it called, tenure?"  
  
"Nope. Not sure I'd take it. I feel . . . itchy sometimes. Restless."  
  
"Stuck?" he suggests.  
  
She smiles. "Yeah. Stuck."  
  
"Me, too." He's quiet for a moment. "We should unstick ourselves."  
  
Ivy sighs. "Not just yet. My mother . . ."  
  
"Yeah, I know." He reaches over and clasps her hand. "But would you? Run away with me?"  
  
"Maybe." She draws the word out in a teasing way, nudges his foot with her own. She feels half her age when she's with him.  
  
Charles sips at his punch, watches the people around them. "How long do we gotta stay?"  
  
"Not long. I'm gonna make a circuit of the room, see if there's anyone it'd be useful to talk to. Then we can cut and run."  
  
He nods. "I'll stay here, save your seat."  
  
Ivy gives his hand a squeeze as she stands. She's still not comfortable with anything more than that, even though they're nearly three hundred miles from home. "Back in a bit."


	8. Chapter 8

**\--Chapter Eight--**  
  
She chats briefly with some vague acquaintances from Tulsa University, but everyone she might talk to--like, say, that guy from Columbia's lit department--is occupied. She's back to Charles within ten minutes.  
  
"Let's go," she says.  
  
He jumps to his feet. "Okay."  
  
Their fingers brush constantly as they leave the conference and head across the street to their hotel, just shy of actually holding hands. Ivy's nearly breathless with anticipation by the time they reach their room.  
  
Charles puts out the "do not disturb" sign and secures every lock on the door. He strips out of his blazer as he crosses to her, dumping it on one of the chairs in the sitting area.  
  
"You ready?" he asks.  
  
Ivy grins and slides her hands up his chest. "Oh, yeah."  
  
His hands curl around her waist as he pulls her close. He kisses her, then again, each with more urgency than the last. Ivy tugs the hem of his button-down out of his slacks and slips her hands under the shirt, needing to touch his skin.  
  
Charles backs her to the bed. He miscalculates on where it is, unable to see because he's kissing her, and they run into it, tumbling over onto the mattress. Ivy snorts with laughter, and after a moment, he chuckles, too.  
  
"I'm a klutz," he says.  
  
"Maybe, but you're _my_ klutz."  
  
They stretch out on the bed and Charles tugs her close. Wrapped in each other, the two of them spend long minutes kissing and caressing. Ivy's never wanted someone as bad as she wants him, never taken as much joy in the build-up before.  
  
"You ever done this before?" she asks, between kisses.  
  
He hesitates for several seconds, nibbling at her ear. "Why do you ask?"  
  
"Well, I don't know your sexual history. I'm just wondering."  
  
Charles flushes. "Um."  
  
Ivy pulls back a little, brows drawn together. "Charles, are you a virgin?"  
  
He turns his gaze towards the buttons on her blouse, as he fiddles with one. "Ah . . ."  
  
With a laugh, Ivy rolls him over and straddles his hips. "You _are_!"  
  
"Ivy! Are you laughing at me?"  
  
She shakes her head and bends low to kiss him. "No, honey," she murmurs against his mouth. "Not at all. You're gonna like this. I promise."  
  
Ivy's had a few lovers in the past, but never for long. Casual sex has never been her thing. Maybe she's been too clingy with past boyfriends, but the relationship's always seemed to destruct soon after they get into bed. As she trails kisses down Charles's chest, she prays fervently this one won't. Given their relation, that'd make family reunions awkward for the rest of eternity.  
  
And Charles is her best friend. She loves him in so many ways. Losing even a bit of this would be devastating.  
  
She bends over him, brushes the hair off his forehead, and says, "I love you."  
  
"Yeah?" There's brilliant hope on his face.  
  
"Yeah. Sorry I haven't said it. I needed . . . to say it when it's right."  
  
His big hands slide up her thighs. "And now's right?"  
  
"Now's _perfect_."  
  
Still astride him, Ivy straightens a little and starts unbuttoning her blouse. She does it slowly, watching the way his blue eyes darken a little more with each button. Her bra is a push-up, nude satin and lace, enhancing her natural B-cups and giving her a little cleavage. As she sheds her shirt, Charles reaches up to touch her.  
  
His hands ghost reverently over her ribcage before he cups her breasts through the bra. Her skin is liberally covered with freckles, except on the parts that never see the sun. He levers upright and kisses her collarbone, tracing the patterns with lips and tongue.  
  
"Charles," she breathes.  
  
"Tell me what to do, Ivy."  
  
"You're doing great on your own. Just touch me. Anywhere you want."  
  
He reaches around her, fumbling to unclasp her bra. "How the hell do you get this thing off?"  
  
Ivy laughs. She twists her arms around and unfastens it for him. He's about to ask how she did it when he's distracted by her breasts. They're not big, but he likes them, pink-tipped and pert. His cock goes hard so fast he gets dizzy.  
  
"You okay?" she asks, noticing he's gone pale. Sitting in his lap, she knows he's erect, straining against his fly. She'll have to do something about that in a minute.  
  
"Y-yeah," he stammers. Gently, he cups her breasts, fascinated with the way her nipples peak at his touch. Charles lowers his head, and she obligingly leans back a little, so he can reach with his mouth.  
  
Her breath leaves in a rush when he closes those sensual lips around one nipple, and her core floods with desire. When she moans, he lifts his head.  
  
"Ivy?"  
  
"It's okay. It feels good." She runs her fingers through his hair. "Bet you're uncomfortable, though."  
  
"A little," he admits.  
  
"Let's get undressed," she suggests.  
  
She shifts back, off his lap, and stands. Without taking her eyes off him, she shimmies out of her dress pants and then her panties. His eyes, naturally, go straight to the triangle of dark curls between her thighs.  
  
She's surprised, though, when he reaches out and gingerly touches the scar low on her abdomen, just above the curls.  
  
"I forgot," he says softly. "Can't believe I forgot."  
  
"It doesn't hurt anymore," she tells him. "Not like it did. I'll be okay."  
  
Charles stands and takes off his shirt. He's not really muscled, but is still attractively built, at least to Ivy. As he unfastens his pants, she bends her head to kiss one of his broad, flat nipples. He hisses out a breath.  
  
Ivy takes charge, pushing his pants and his boxers down together. He steps out of them, his erection proud, jutting upright out of a nest of auburn curls. She blinks. He's bigger than she expected. Her belly tightens with need, imagining him inside her.  
  
"Oh, my," she breathes.  
  
"What?" He looks down. "Something wrong?"  
  
"Uh-uh." She shakes her head, reaches out to touch him. "Nothing at all."  
  
Charles lets out a shaky breath when her fingers close around him. He's never had a touch on his cock other than his own, and it feels real good when she grips him. "Ivy."  
  
"You gotta take your socks off," she says.  
  
"What are socks?" he jokes.  
  
She lets go, and while he sits to remove his socks, she fetches the lube from her overnight bag. Ivy isn't sure they'll need it, but she wants it in case they do. She sets it on the nightstand.  
  
Charles wraps his arms around her and drags her onto the bed. She giggles, then loses her breath when he pins her down. It's like little electric shocks, being full-length skin-to-skin with him.  
  
He dips his head, kisses her hungrily. Ivy moans, fingers digging into his back. He's hard against her mound, so close and yet so far.  
  
When he lifts off of her, Ivy reaches to grasp him, stroking from root to head and back with lazy pulls of her fingers. Charles shudders and groans.  
  
"God, Ivy," he breathes.  
  
"Do the same for me," she whispers.  
  
He hisses out a breath and nods, shifting his weight to one elbow so he can slip his hand between her thighs. He's touched her here through her panties, but there's nothing between her and his hand now. Her hair there is coarser, springy, and then he's sliding his fingers across her slippery flesh, finding her wet and warm.  
  
Charles parts her with long fingers, searching for the little nub he knows is there. He's not an idiot, after all, just inexperienced. When he finds it, she sucks in a breath, shifts her hips, and opens to his touch. The sound she makes as he rubs little circles over her clit makes him twitch in her hand.  
  
"That's good," she tells him, somewhere between a pant and a whimper.  
  
Boldened by her response, he dips his hand lower, drawn to the most-secret part of her. He slides a finger into her heat. Ivy tips her hips up and her hand grips him harder.  
  
Charles shifts to latch onto one breast, drawing the rosy nipple between his lips. Ivy sighs and murmurs in encouragement.  
  
"This okay?" he asks, pausing to check with her.  
  
"More than okay. Yeah. You can touch me anywhere you want, remember?"  
  
"I- I kinda wanna . . ."  
  
She lovingly strokes his cheek. "What do you wanna do?"  
  
"Um." Charles flushes and stammers. "I was thinkin' about- about kissing you here."  
  
His fingers indicate perfectly clear where "here" is. The thought of his mouth on her there is nearly her undoing. She bites her lip and nods rapidly.  
  
"That okay?"  
  
"Oh, yeah. *Definitely* okay."  
  
Charles wiggles down on the bed, kissing his way down her stomach. She's quivering with anticipation by the time he reaches her incision. He presses a kiss to the livid scar on her belly.  
  
His breath is hot on her skin. Ivy cups one breast in a hand, rolling her nipple between her fingers, watching as Charles kisses her thighs. She spreads her legs, giving him room.  
  
"Now, don't get mad if I do this wrong," he jokes. He uses his fingers to part her, and gently flicks his tongue over her clit.  
  
Ivy gasps. "Charles!"  
  
"What? What? I do somethin-"  
  
"Charles, shut up and don't stop."  
  
He snickers, licks her again but harder. Ivy moans. Figuring he must be going in the right direction, Charles circles her clitoris with his tongue, then presses his mouth close, sucking at her.  
  
"Unh- Yes! _Please_!" She clutches at his hair, legs shaking as spikes of pleasure steal her breath. "Mmmm."  
  
He stretches up to fondle her other breast, his eyes turned to watch her. It's just about the hottest thing Ivy's ever seen in her life. And it's been too long since she's had a good orgasm. Charles is a natural, though, and it's only a minute or so before she's gasping, "I'm gonna come."  
  
"Yeah," he says, breaking for air. "Come for me, baby."  
  
Hearing his words pushes her over the brink and she goes rigid, rocked by her orgasm. Charles lets her ride it out, thinking that watching her come, knowing he made her, is the best thing in the world.  
  
Ivy pants for air, limp on the bed beneath him. "Charles," she manages to gasp, "you did good."  
  
He grins, then his smile falters. "You sure about the rest of this?" he asks her again. "I don't wanna hurt you."  
  
Ivy reaches down and runs her fingers through his curly hair. "You won't," she assures him. "And if you _do_ , I'll tell you. Okay?"  
  
Charles huffs out a breath. "Okay. And- and tell me if I do somethin' wrong, too."  
  
"C'mere." She beckons and he crawls up the length of her body. Ivy pulls him down and he settles against her, his erection pinned between them, stiff on her belly. "You haven't done anything wrong yet. Just go slow."  
  
"Yeah. Slow. Right."  
  
"I need a minute, though."  
  
Charles caresses her hip, dips his head to kiss her. Her breathing hitches at the taste of herself on his lips. Ivy twines her legs around his waist, digs her fingers into his hair.  
  
The feel of his body against hers is enough to get her going again. Charles kisses her hungrily, possessively, and she responds eagerly in kind. All talk of "slow" is forgotten as he rocks against her.  
  
"Ivy," he grits out at last. "I need- I gotta-"  
  
"C'mon." She coaxes him with a roll of her hips. She's not gonna need the lube after all, she can tell. "I'm ready."  
  
Charles shifts to kneel between her legs, all nervous energy and angular lines. Ivy guides him where he needs to be. He starts to push forward, then hesitates.  
  
"You got scars, don't you? Inside?"  
  
"Charles, honey, I'm okay. Just go slow. I'll tell you if it's too much." She laces her fingers behind his neck. There's a chance he might actually be too much, at least right now, but she's not gonna worry him with that.  
  
He chews on his lip for a moment, nods to himself, and thrusts into her. Then he has to stop, because it's the best thing he's ever felt in his life. She's all snug and warm and wet and for a moment, he's afraid he's gonna lose it right there and completely embarrass himself.  
  
"Oh, god," he breathes. "Ivy."  
  
She smiles and it lights his world. "See? Said you'd like it."  
  
It takes a bit to find their rhythm, and he slips out once, fumbling with fingers and apologies. She just pulls him back, and this time her legs are tight around his hips so he can't go anywhere. It's tight, but oh, it feels so good, and doesn't hurt at all.  
  
Charles slides his arms under her, lifting her a little and putting his weight on his elbows so he's not crushing her. With her wrapped around him, he can't thrust real deep, but he doesn't need to.  
  
"You alright?" he asks. "Still okay?"  
  
"I'm perfect. Just perfect. Oh- That's- Y'know what? You can go a little harder. Please."  
  
He adjusts accordingly, and Ivy arches under him, making a sound he's never heard before. Her hazel eyes flutter closed and she tips her head back. Charles can't resist kissing the column of her throat.  
  
"Mmm." She purrs and slides her hands down his back. "Charles."  
  
He's never been with a woman before Ivy, but he's gotten off plenty in the past. He feels it coming, too soon for his taste, and slows down. "Ivy, I'm gettin' close- I dunno if I can . . ."  
  
"Don't hold back," she breathes. "Go ahead."  
  
Three more rolls of his hips and his climax hits him. Ivy holds him close as he shudders and gives a ragged cry. Unable to stop, he continues thrusting through it. It's only moments later when Ivy follows him down.  
  
They lie together, tangled in limbs and sheets, his head on her chest. Charles breathes heavily, awed by what they've done.  
  
"That was amazing," he tells her. He kisses her shoulder.  
  
She threads her fingers through his sweaty hair. "It was," she agrees. If she's honest with herself, it's the best she's ever had.  Somewhat sad commentary on her sex life, but good news for the future. She giggles suddenly.  
  
Charles lifts his head, looks at her with heavy-lidded aqua eyes. "What?"  
  
"Just thinking. If it was this good now, imagine how it's gonna be when you've had practise?"  
  
He groans. "I dunno if it can get better than that. Can it? I mean . . . I did okay, right?"  
  
"You did great," she assures him. "But the more you do it, the better it gets."  
  
Charles rolls off of her finally and sprawls on his back. Ivy curls against his side, one leg slung across his thighs. She sighs happily and lays her head on his shoulder.  
  
"What time's your seminar tomorrow?" he asks.  
  
"Two in the afternoon."  
  
"What time is it now?"  
  
She lifts her head, squints at the bedside clock. "Uh. Almost eight."  
  
"So we got time."  
  
"Time for what?"  
  
"Practise."  
  
She grins, turns her head to kiss his chest. "Oh, yeah. We have plenty of time for practise."


	9. Chapter 9

**\--Chapter Nine--**  
  
When Ivy wakes, she's wrapped in Charles and a tangle of sheets. Her only concession to modesty above the waist is his arm draped over her breasts. He seems to still be asleep, but his erection is hard against the cleft of her buttocks.  
  
Grinning to herself, she reaches back and lightly runs her fingers over his length. He stirs, pushing into her hand, and mumbles against her shoulder.  
  
"You want somethin'?" he rasps.  
  
"Mmm. Maybe. Looks like _you_ definitely do."  
  
Ivy rolls over, nudging Charles 'til he sprawls on his back. She straddles his thighs, stroking him in earnest now.  
  
"You want another lesson?"  
  
"Oh, yeah," he breathes. "Show me more, Ms. Weston."  
  
She snickers and bends down to kiss him, long and lingering. Then she walks backwards on her knees 'til she's bent over his cock, which quivers with every thump of his heart. Ivy fists her hair in one hand, and his erection in the other, before she dips her head to lick him.  
  
"Holy Jesus!" he gasps, hips lifting off the bed.  
  
"You like that?" she asks with a laugh. "Let's try this."  
  
She closes her mouth around him, and Charles has to grip the covers and breathe hard not to lose it. He's never felt anything like this, and- "Holy shit."  
  
Ivy teases him with lips and tongue, alternating between sucking him and licking circles around the head. Judging by the sounds he's making, he's going to come any time.  
  
She pulls back, not wanting to give him that just yet. He makes a disappointed sound when she stops, and Ivy grins.  
  
"Not done with you yet," she tells him. She moves back up his body, holds him steady, and impales herself on him.  
  
His hands settle on her thighs as she rocks, seeking her rhythm. She's beautiful, so beautiful, with the early morning light bathing her trim body in a warm glow. Charles reaches up to cup her breasts, his fingers tugging at the pink nipples.  
  
Ivy rides him slow but hard. "Touch me, Charles," she breathes, and he does, sliding those big hands over her fevered skin.  
  
He fills her as no man ever has, and as she climaxes once, then a second time, she thinks that no man ever will again.  
  
Finally, finally, she lets him find release, and they curl together, sweaty and sated.  
  
"I love you, Charles Aiken," she tells him.  
  
Beaming, he threads his fingers through the dark waves of her hair. "I love you, Ivy Weston."  
  


* * *

  
  
Aside from the seminar she has to attend, Ivy and Charles spend the rest of the weekend exploring each other. It's so much more interesting and important to her than the conference.  
  
By Sunday evening, she's intimately familiar with every nuance of his face when he orgasms, cognizant of nearly every spot on his tall, lanky frame that really turns him on. And he's a really fast learner, no matter what his mama says, because within hours, Charles can play her better than any piano, bringing her to climax over and over again.  
  
Monday morning, they check out of the hotel and head back to Pawhuska. Ivy's tempted at several points to pull off the road and find a place to make out like teenagers. She's never been this happy, never wanted someone more than she wants him.  
  
Unfortunately, no one is gonna understand what they have between them, especially now.  
  
"Okay. We've definitely gotta be careful," she says with a sigh. "Because I wanna throw caution to the wind, which is just what we *can't* do."  
  
"I know." He reaches over, rests his hand on her thigh as she drives. "No PDA around family or friends, anyone who can report back. Which basically means . . ."  
  
"We either get a room in Tulsa every once in a while, or we meet at my place like we've been doing. That's the rule. This is our secret, just you and me."  
  
"Right." He nods. "That's the rule."  
  


* * *

  
  
Charles gets out of the car at his parents' place, wishing he didn't have to say good-bye just yet. They'll see each other soon, he knows, but after the weekend he's just hand, "soon" is too long.  
  
Ivy waits 'til he's inside the house, just in case he doesn't have his key and his parents aren't home. It's happened before.  
  
Mattie Fae peers out the window as Ivy's car pulls away. "Was that Ivy?" she asks.  
  
Charles pauses, attempting to school his face to something neutral. "Yeah. She was comin' from something at the college, gave me a ride." The secret double-entendre nearly makes him grin.  
  
"Well, that was nice of her. Don't suppose she could help you find a job."  
  
He grits his teeth, doesn't dignify that with a response, and escapes to his room.  
  
Maybe he'll give that running-to-New-York-with-Ivy some more thought. He can't stay here forever.  
  
Soon, he reminds himself. Soon.


End file.
